Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero
by chipmunkwashere
Summary: It’s been two months since the conclusion of the King Of Iron Fist Tournament 5... What happens when Ling Xiaoyu is forced to ask the LEAST expected person for much needed help? Is she prepared to go 'all the way' to... [Click For Full Preview]
1. Prologue

_**Prologue **_

Tired, oh so tired.

Exhausted. He was anguished in body and spirit and seemingly even mind as his head hung lazily in the stale air. Attempts to shudder his wrists free accomplished nothing but the rustling of imprisoning chains. The same bundled up strings of thick metal choked his upper ankles in a tight embrace, tainting his cold feet pale from the undersupply of flowing blood.

Suddenly, although not so sudden anymore, jolts of purple, artificial lighting beamed through his body, dimming his inner strength to helplessness and granting his muscles to fatigue. Within seconds the shock was over. Until the next one, shortly, that is.

Sweat seeped from the shadows of his longish black hair and submerged his bare upper torso in perspiration. The product of his burning chest left his body via the scorching pants through his lips.

He fought the tiredness, straightening his head to take a good look at his tormentors. Men in white lab coats, all yielding the 'G' logo that could only belong to the G-Cooperation.

Betrayal, once again. His father, his grandfather... his great grandfather? Ironically, he was the only one that seemed innocent in all of this. Pity he was probably suffering the same fate concurrently.

He gritted his teeth abruptly as yet another paralyzing shock travelled his vessels. All whilst clinching nothing but a single thought...

They would all pay!


	2. Asking The Wrong Guy

**Preview**

It's been two months since the conclusion of the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5...

What happens when Ling Xiaoyu is forced to ask the LEAST expected person for much needed help? Is she prepared to go **all the way** to acquire assistance in this crucial situation?

Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

Author's Notes: After spending a lot of time being sidetracked with other stories, I decided to come back and finish this. So some of you may already recognize it, and new readers are welcome to read it as well. Reviews very much appreciated:)

**Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero**

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

**Chapter 1 **

_Asking The Wrong Guy…_

"Argh!" he cried out as he flew back from the force of a boot's sole to his chest. His body pounced three times, and then skidded across the roughness of the grey gravel road, scraping red lines on parts of his unclothed flesh before finally allowing him a merciful stop. He looked up to his aggressor, wanting to curse at him. But the sight of the slim, muscular, red-haired man did nothing but intimidate him even more. He gurgled the saliva and blood solution in his mouth then dropped to kiss the road with his busted lip.

"Looks like I win," the victor ran a gauntlet covered hand atop his smooth, laidback hair as he looked at his downed opponent. "Pay up guys," he said to the man standing to his left. "B-but Hwoarang," the man shivered. "You cheated! You said no knock outs, only ring outs."

The silver accessories on Hwoarang's clothing jingled as he approached the man in an all-too-calm walk. He stepped over the circular, painted boundary to get a hold of the man's shirt. "Look, I did knock him out of the ring," he said in a menacing voice, tugging the scrawny man aggressively. "It's not my fault if he's too weak to withstand ONE kick!"

"B-b-b-b-but –"

Hwoarang's brown eyes pierced the frightened street thug's, deadlocked, waiting for something sensible to compensate for the mindless stuttering. But something else grabbed his intention. The mirror effect of the grunt's eyes reflected the scene over Hwoarang's shoulder: an approaching aggressor was holding the neck of a beer bottle and was creeping closer to his back.

The underhanded attack was launched with a loud groan, the attacker swinging the bottle and aiming for the bull's-eye he saw on the back Hwoarang's head.

Using the reflection as a guide and his quick feet as a means, the target swooped to the side, fully avoiding the glass-container-turned-weapon. The bottle was inadvertently driven to the skull of the scrawny thug with a bash. His eyes rolled back into his head as his body dropped to the street. The thump of his fallen carcass mingled with the trickling of the shattered pieces of glass.

The offender trembled with fear at the unintentional knock out, but even more fear when his expected target seemed to have vanished right before him. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed his wrist and yanked the side of his torso into a hard boot's sole before his face was smeared with the same, gritty surface. Then, his head was snapped to the side, leaving his neck temporarily displaced. He involuntarily closed his eyes and his knees dropped to the road, followed by his body slumping over face first.

"Humph," Hwoarang grunted, grounding his foot from the attack. "Cheapskates, you deserve it," he sneered at the unconscious men. He adjusted his fighter gloves and crossed his arms.

This was what his life had become after the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5.

The smell of alcohol and immorally placed urine reeked throughout the deserted streets. Just when Hwoarang thought he'd never have to smell it again. Thankfully, a place like this would never be his home again. He watched as a terribly skinny dog mauled its way through the thin trash bags deposited next to overfilled dumpsters. Here, life strived to remain in its current state of existence.

The old bricks of the tall apartment walls were palettes for colourful graffiti, and their windows, excluding the ones that managed to hold it together after being defaced with numerous cracks and rigid holes, desperately needed attention. It was the perfect spot for drug deals and illegal money scams to go down, he should know. A few years ago, he was associated with some of the cruellest underground lords. And he probably still would've been if it wasn't for his Tai Kwon Do Master, Baek Doo San.

Baek was ashamed to see that his teachings were used for purposes other than self-defence or righteousness. He always advised his favourite and technically prominent student against it, but his complaints always seemed to fall on deaf ears. No, it hadn't, Hwoarang thought.

He may not have acted like it sometimes - more than 'sometimes' maybe, but he always did take Baek's words seriously. What was the point of it all, otherwise?

Ever since his draw, which he considered a loss, to his archrival, Jin Kazama, he had rushed his training to pursue the rematch he felt he deserved. This meant disobeying any orders against the mission, including Baek's. He had never lost once in a street fight before Jin. He had to reclaim his street credibility and most importantly, his honour. After two missed attempts at the King of Iron Fist Tournaments 3 and 4, he finally got his chance at the fifth...

He finally managed to defeat Jin. But...

It didn't feel right. When they faced off years back, Jin fought incorporating Mishima Style Martial Arts into his technique. During the fifth tournament, he seemed to have adopted a completely new fighting style; a significantly weaker style, in Hwoarang's opinion. It dampened the sweet taste of his longed victory, making the effort seem unworthy. Did Jin fight him like that because he felt he would have otherwise been no match? Or was it because Jin wanted him out of his hair?

Either way, Hwoarang never got a chance to ask him. Right after the fight, Jin fed him something about 'fulfilling the destiny of his cursed blood.' Then he left just like that, unconcerned about the result of the rematch. It really pissed Hwoarang off but there was really nothing he could do about it. He drove back on his bike, still feeling unfulfilled.

The tournament was over and now the most decent opponents he could find were the likes of these, he looked down at the knocked out men. He shook his head in disappointment. The distant cries of police sirens threatened him into hastening a departure, and the growing foul stench of decomposed food encouraged it. He sighed at the dark-blue, dusky skies before stepping over one of the men. Abandoned flyers and food wrappings scratched the gravel surface at the wind's command as he made his way to his bike.

His heel smacked the vehicle's foothold from its resting position. He mounted the bike, retaining its balance with his weight. The motorbike roared as he jolted the engine on with his foot and then raved the accelerator.

"HWOARANG!"

The booming high-pitched voice caught his ears and he turned his head around. In the near distance, a young Chinese girl was running towards him with a huge Panda bear following her. She wore long white pants and an open red jacket. Her long, sharp-tipped pigtails fluttered in the wind behind her. He remembered seeing her at the King of Iron Fist Tournament 3 talking to Jin once. He also recognized her from the fourth and fifth tournament.

"Leave! This place isn't for little girls." He ignored her sympathetic pants for breath as she reached him.

"How rude!" she whined, having caught her breath a little. "I should've known! Jin told me all about you!" Panda stood quietly on all fours besides her.

"Oh really? Did he tell you I kicked his ass at the last tournament?"

"How rude!" Ling Xiaoyu pressed her fists against her waist. "You just said – you said –"

"ASS!" Hwoarang shouted deliberately as he stopped the running engine. "Really, Xiaoyu, it's about time you start behaving your age."

But the young lady simply stuck out her tongue at him. "The fact that I don't see the need in saying bad words makes me more mature than you."

"Whatever," Hwoarang snorted. Her little childish argument was beginning to agitate him. "What do you want here, anyway? Look around you. This isn't exactly an amusement park."

"What do you want around here, anyway?" She mimicked his voice. "This isn't exactly a gay bar."

Hwoarang nearly fell off his bike when he heard the utterly false implications, feeling offended and enraged. He contemplated a response but decided it would only prolong the useless quarrel. Instead, he turned away from her and her Panda, and yanked the engine backed on with his foot.

Xiaoyu ran to the front of his bike and held her hands out, using her body as a barricade. "Don't go, please! I'm sorry. I'm here to ask you for a favour. A huge favour!" But Hwoarang wasn't listening; he continued to rave his accelerator threateningly. "PLEASE! I'm not getting out of the way until you hear what I have to say!"

"Then I hope you have as much of a loving father as Forest Law!" Hwoarang yelled over the rumbling bike. "Because you're going to have huge hospital bills after this!" Without any further warning, he released the clutch, putting the bike in a mobile state. But the sinister grin on his face was quickly whipped off when all of the sudden, a strong force held the rear of the bike, causing the front tire to lift into the air. His backside slid off the seat and onto the hard floor.

"What'd you do that for!" he yelled at Panda who was still holding the back of his bike.

'_Because you're a jerk!'_ The Panda growled in a language only Ling Xiaoyu could understand.

"Er – Panda says she's sorry but she must carry out her duty of protecting me," Xiaoyu quickly lied, not wanting to trouble Hwoarang anymore until he heard her out.

'_Xiaoyu! How dare you censor me!'_ Panda complained. She looked down at the young man, who was massaging his bottom from the pain. _'What's wrong? Aren't you gay? I'm sure it hurts more when harder things than that enter your –'_

"Panda!" Xiaoyu said surprised.

"What did it say?" Hwoarang commanded.

'_IT?'_ Panda exclaimed, raising a paw to Hwoarang's head.

"Er – she said she'll pay for any damages your bike may endure because of her," Xiaoyu created quickly. "See, she wants to shake your hand!"

Hwoarang stood up and hissed at the bear, disregarding its supposed goodwill gesture. "Seriously, Xiaoyu, what do you want?"

"Um," Xiaoyu started, fighting the giggles as she watched Panda shake her paw threateningly behind Hwoarang's head. She straightened up and cleared her throat. "It's Jin."

"Ha," Hwoarang let out. "So he is alive! I knew it! He wants a rematch doesn't he? Tell him I said NO! It'll teach him not to throw matches in the future. You know how long I –"

"No," she said in an unusually serious tone. "Actually, he needs your help. He needs all of our help."

"Help?" When it came to Jin and the Mishimas, Hwoarang never heard of a concept more puzzling. "Why would you think he needs help? And even if he did, what the hell made you think that **I** will be willingly to do anything for that bastard?"

Her cute little pigtails slapped her forehead as she shook her head in disagreement. "I know you don't mean that, you're just angry."

"How much are you willing to bet?"

"Listen, I'm asking you to put your little beef aside for just a second. One second," she said, holding up a finger before him. "Please." At his reluctant sigh she continued. "After Jin disappeared two months ago at the end of the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5, in my heart I always knew he was still alive. I knew he was somewhere out there, cold ... and alone. I just didn't know where. Not until now."

"Please, Xiaoyu," he said unconcerned. "Even I could've told you that he was in hibernation, sulking over his loss to me and his –" But an open paw to the back of the head shut him up.

"Thank you, Panda." The bear nodded at her thankfulness, happy to be of service as usual. Xiaoyu looked at Hwoarang again. "I've received information that he is being held captive somewhere in the Mishima Fortress, not too far away from Honmaru. You see, after the tournament, Heihachi used treachery, once again, to capture him. My source told me that if it wasn't for Jin's Devil gene being carefully examined and experimented on, he would have been dead long time ago. But even so, it seems Heihachi is in the final stages of his experiments and Jin will no longer be of use to him. That's why I, we, need to get him out of there as soon as possible. And that's where I need your help. If you really did defeat Jin in the tournament then you could prove useful if he decides to go all crazy and attack everyone or something."

But Hwoarang had lost focus long time ago. He was scoping her slender body from head to toe. His eyes were fixed on the visual display of the tops of her small breasts uncovered by her tight fitting, short, black tank-top. "Okay, I'll help you."

"Really?" She jumped up, happily. Then she thought again, considering the uncomfortable simplicity. "Wait a minute, what's the catch?"

Hwoarang didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and stepped closer to her.

Xiaoyu was puzzled as he got within an inch of her space. His left hand found its way to her unclothed waist. She gasped at the sudden coldness of his fingers, which were now drawing circles on her abdomen. "That tickles," she giggled. His hand used that as a signal and continued on, feeling around her waist before stopping at her lower back. "Umgh," she complained as her body was abruptly pulled even closer to his. "Hwoarang, what are you do-"

"Sssh," he hushed her with a finger to her mouth. "You've got soft lips," he whispered, then smiled at her perplexed expression. The fact that she had no idea what she would be screaming in a couple of seconds motivated him even more. His finger left her lips and slowly slid down the smooth path of her chin, neck, chest... then it latched on to her tank-top's rim, gently and slowly pulling it back, relieving it of the hug it had on her bust.

But Xiaoyu pulled away before anything he wasn't supposed to see decided to pop out. "What do you think you're doing?" she yelled, backing away and concealing herself with a zip of her red jacket.

"Ling, Ling, Ling." Hwoarang smiled. "You still don't get it do you?" The crossed arms and silence she exhibited answered his question. "YOU'RE the catch."

'_See why I wanted to knock him out?'_

"Me?" Xiaoyu exclaimed, disregarding Panda's comment. "But-but why?"

"Well, for one, it will prove that I'm not gay," Hwoarang pointed out.

"Yeah? Well it also proves you're a perve!" She reconsidered her decision to ask him for help. She believed that his mere hatred or jealousy or whatever feeble feelings he held towards Jin would be demolished in the name of grave danger. But apparently, she was wrong.

Hwoarang mounted his bike once more. He kicked the engine on but Ling stood in his way again. "Look, you said no to me and so I say NO to you. If you want my help you know what you have to do. Otherwise, step aside now and let me go."

Xiaoyu stood her ground, thinking about it. He was the only person, she believed, possessed the animosity to match that creature's that Jin would turn into. Sure, there were plenty of other strong fighters in the tournament, many probably even stronger than Hwoarang, but as time was not on her side and with the chances of recruiting someone like Kazuya being a negative number, he was the only choice she had. But was it really worth her body?

She had been taught by various women she held much respect for that doing something like this was totally unacceptable. There had to be another way, another person who would be kind and strong enough to help her.

VROOM! The croaky humming of his bike reached a peek, signifying the time for making the final decision was upon her.

She put her arms down and stepped out of his way.

Hwoarang shook his head, disappointed. "Good luck finding him! With all that Mishima security, you're definitely going to need it!" He pulled his front wheel up performing a wheelie before driving off, his exhausts coughing out black fumes for her to choke on.

**End of Chapter 1**


	3. Rush Hour

Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

**Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero**

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

**Chapter 2**

_Rush Hour…_

Her form in the peaceful waters reflected anything but serenity. Black patches dirtied her normally fair cheeks. The wavering waters distorted her face as her hands gently cut the surface. Using her submerged hands, she cupped as much of the blue river she could. She shut her eyes from the gathered water's hard smack to her face. She rubbed hard against her soft skin, fighting to wipe her cheeks clean of the unsettling grime.

Chocolaty eyes opened to a better reflection. She shifted her face in as many directions as she could; confirming from all angles that the dirt had been completely eradicated. She let out a breadth of air and continued to look at the wobbly mirror image of herself, her two short ponytails hanging to either side of her face. "Xiaoyu, what am I going to do with you?"

As expected, her other version did nothing but imitate her. The prickliness of the grass greeted her skin with slight irritation as she sprung back from the pond, landing back first with her arms outstretched on the green meadow. The plain, bluish-grey skies lacked a single spark of golden light. She sighed, pillowing her head with her arms. Had she really made the right choice?

Jin's life was at stake and she had to do everything in her power to help him. She knew he would've done the same for her. Damn that Hwoarang. She was very disappointed, but at the same time not surprised. Asking him was a long shot anyway. But the actual sound of his voice saying 'no' still hit her hard. And that was the only answer he was going to give her because she wasn't prepared to give him what he wanted. But shouldn't honour, and possibly even self-respect, be set aside when weighed against the importance of life?

"Ooof," she muffled when the feel of wet fabric suddenly invaded her face, rendering her vision dark. She brought herself to a sitting position, tossing aside the red jacket that had been dropped on her.

'_There you go, Ling. I managed to get rid of any potential stains but it's still a little wet. Hang it over your shoulder as we walk. I'm sure it will dry within an hour or two.' _

Xiaoyu turned to the projector of the voice, thankful for the presence of the huge black and white bear that stood behind her. "Thanks, Panda. Sorry about that. I know laundry isn't exactly your specialty."

'_You don't need to apologize, Ling. It wasn't your fault,'_ Panda reassured her. _'It was that jerk who got you all dirty in the first place. I swear, if his motorbike smoke had got my fur he'd be a dead man walking right now.'_ But her words didn't seem to be cheering up the saddened girl. _'What's wrong Ling?'_

"Panda," Xiaoyu started, looking deep into her pet's dark eyes. Panda sat down to better pay attention. "Do you really think I did the right thing?"

The Panda bear put a soothing paw on her shoulder. _'Of course you did.'_

"Then, why do I feel so bad. Like I ... I ... like I betrayed Jin?" Panda disagreed with a shake of her head but Xiaoyu couldn't escape the mindset. "I mean, if I were Jin and well you were me, wouldn't you do everything you could to save me? Or would you have done what I did?"

'_But Ling what you did was right,'_ Panda argued. _'Who's to say that that thug would've even kept his word after he had had his way with you? You can't trust guys like that, Ling and even if he did agree to help us, I doubt he would've been of much use anyway. We'll find someone else.'_

"Oh come on Panda," Xiaoyu said matter-of-factly. "I know you hate the guy, and I don't like him much either, but saying he wouldn't be much help would be downright false. Besides, we need all the help we can get, no matter how small." Suddenly motivated, she shot back to her feet. "Which is why I've made my decision!"

'_Er, Ling?'_

"Not now, Panda. I'm trying to be revolutionary," she said with a confident smirk to the sky. She strapped on her fingerless gloves, black to match her small, tight-fitting vest.

'_But Ling, you dropped something.'_ A shiny, golf-ball-shaped sphere was resting stably in the centre of Panda's open palm. The azure streaks of light that scattered from its depths were so bright they were almost blinding.

Xiaoyu snatched the ball from Panda and pocketed it immediately, killing its dazzling display of brilliant blue light. She looked at Panda seriously, preparing to straighten her puzzled bear face. "I found it in the Mishima Compound during the last tournament. It's weird. Sometimes it can be so bright and other times it's just like any other ball. I still don't know what it is or what's meant to do but I didn't want to tell anyone until I had at least some sort of clue. What do you think it is?"

Panda shook her head. _'I don't know, never seen anything like it. But I think you made the right decision not telling anyone. Except for one thing ... I'm not just anyone. I'm your best friend, you could've trusted me.'_

"I know and I'm sorry Panda. I was going to tell you eventually though but I guess I just sort of ... forgot. Please forgive me, you'll be the first to know anything in future," she pleaded with her palms together.

'_Oh, oh okay,'_ Panda said, submitting to her trainer's puppy dog eyes. _'But never forget to tell me anything again. Now, what were you saying about making a decision?'_

Xiaoyu tapped her chin with an index finger as she tried to recall. "Oh, yeah! I've made my decision! Listen..."

The two close companions continued their conversation, ignorant to the fact that a few hundreds of feet into the distance, hidden in the nearby woods, concealed by the vastness of thick tree branches and green leaves, a pair of sinister eyes shone red, surveying the every movement of their target.

ooOOoo

Flocks of unbound birds pervaded the setting skies, soaring swiftly through the obstacle-free atmosphere. Their wings frolicked peacefully in the warm air but unfortunately, the malicious reach of man managed to invade their private fly zones in the form of the harmful fumes that whispered their way into the high clouds. Looking down to the source, one would mock the inevitable malfunction of human convenience.

Herds of metallic creatures, mobile by means of their four, circular, rubber feet, exhausted the roads below. They howled at each other, as if expecting the noise to improve their embarrassingly slow movement. They were strange creatures, with a set of eyes situated at their fronts and a corresponding set fixed on their behinds. The hundreds of these beings stared at each other attentively, each waiting for the next to advance an inch forward so it could do the same. But what was even more enigmatic, were the creatures that drove the vehicles. They were said to be the rulers of Earth, yet, they failed to conquer the simplicity of travel. The birds smirked and flew on.

Caught in the midst of the traffic jam, was a red-haired man slouching lazily on his motorbike. Hwoarang's chin rested on his palm. He sighed out of boredom, waiting for the chance to restart his bike and keep it on for more than a second.

The rush hour, mainly consisting of workers returning home, hadn't been anticipated. Even the pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks appeared to be cruising faster than Concord jets when compared to all the vehicles were deadlocked in the busyness. Loud rants and really pointless complaints were aired by the untamed drivers, some of who expressed their frustration through the honks of their cars.

"Ay, shut up!" Hwoarang retaliated to noisy hoots of the man behind him. He stood on his feet, bike between his legs, and dragged his vehicle a yard forward before dropping right back on it. "Happy?" he said sarcastically to the complainer whom only responded by moving forward the same distance.

Despite the various displays of jewellery visible through the huge, rectangular windows of the buildings to the side of the road, Hwoarang still felt bored. He frowned at the people walking on the inner curb, jealous of the measly lampposts that were their only hurdles. The only thing that could excite him at the moment was the visual remembrance of Ling Xiaoyu. It was a shame she denied his generous offer.

She must have been extremely desperate to even consider investing in him to help her find Jin Kazama. Oh, how he wished he could've exploited that desperation. But maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on her. A city girl, prepared to travel all the way to the gutter, only to shake the cold hand of rejection, all in the name of Jin Kazama. On second thought ... he loved it.

Anything that would curse Jin's fate was a comfort for him. For two years, Hwoarang had strived, had lived for the sole purpose of that rematch. But what did he get instead? A damned near perfect victory. He could have got a better fight from a bitch that had had its puppies taken away. Heh, why did that thought remind him of Nina?

He won too easily. He very much doubted the notion that he had grown **that** much stronger over the years, leaving the only explanation Jin's deliberate preservation. But why would Jin want to hold back?

The scenery of two people's obscured figures frantically kissing in the backseat of the black and yellow taxi in front of him became apparent. Moulded with the scent of leaking drops of petrol and gassy smog, it disgusted him. That was the down side of having no doors or windows on your vehicle.

But nothing disgusted him more than the thought of pity. Jin's pity.

He shook his head. He had to stop thinking of Jin, for whenever he did, the chain of thoughts would run in an eternal ring of disappointment and shame.

BEEP! The loud car horn blew the dangling strands of orange hair on the back of his head. He gritted his teeth, letting the anger build within his chest as he slowly turned to scold that damn irritation. "WHAT'S YOUR PROB-" But his words were cut short when he realised who he was talking to.

A Chinese man, with black straps running down his pink shirt, sat in the driving seat of the police car with a triumphant grin on his face. Black bangs hung before his face as his head poked out of the open window. "Hwoarang, you're under arrest!"

"Lei Wulong," he questioned the possibility of running into him. It was the acclaimed 'Super Cop' himself. Hwoarang often wondered what such a high ranking officer like Wulong would be doing chasing petty crooks like him. "What's wrong officer? Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

But the law enforcement veteran ignored the demeaning statement, and emerged from his vehicle. The door bolted shut behind him as he made his way towards the offender. "Trust me," he started, producing a pair of unclipped handcuffs from his pocket. "You criminals are the **real** bothers."

Hwoarang grew worried as the imprisoning instruments got closer to him. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, pushing down the engine gear with the sole of his boot. "But those cuffs ... not exactly my style." He pulled on the accelerator but before he knew it, his left wrist was fastened with the steel of the handcuffs. Lei Wulong was much faster than an average man of the same age. But not fast enough, Hwoarang thought, lifting his front tire with the handlebars.

"Hey!" Wulong complained as he lost balance and ended up clipping the other half of the handcuffs onto one of bike's handlebars. With a grumble of his bike, the daring escape artist drove right up the boot of the taxi in front and rode right over its hood and onto its bonnet before hitting the road again.

Wulong swung around, using his intuition to survey the area for a suitable vehicle he could use to give chase. Considering their size and flexibility, cars were a definite no. His keen eyes quickly spotted a pizza scooter. It didn't look like much but it was certainly more flexible, and hence more convenient, than anything else in sight.

He sprinted towards it. "Police," he declared, flashing his badge before the young rider. "I need your vehicle for official police duty. If you would please –"

"But dude, I'm already like ten minutes late. There's no way I'm going to able to – Argh!" The delivery boy cried out, as a swift backhand met his face, hurling him backwards to land on a car's bonnet.

"Sorry about that," Wulong apologised, as he mounted the variation of a motorbike. "I've got no time to waste. Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He sped off without another word, driving between the gaps of packed cars to get to the sidewalk.

"But dude ... at least leave the pizza!" But the officer was already long gone. "Oh well, there goes my tip." Suddenly, a huge muscular man appeared from the car he had been knocked onto.

The bulging muscleman punched his palm threateningly. "See what you did to my windshield, punk?" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "You're going to loose more than just a tip over that!"

"But dude ... oh dear..." the boy whined, curling himself up on the car and covering his head as he waited for his painful fate.

ooOOoo

Hwoarang grinned at the unaware pedestrians who were forced to dive aside from the threat of his motorbike. He swirled from streetlamps and evaded fire hydrants as he drove the narrow path clearly spaced for the specific use of foot travellers. Given the circumstances however, rules and regulations were of no concern to him. Bitter coldness bit his body from the sudden stop of momentous, rushing winds as he took a sharp right turn.

He looked back to check for his pursuer and was relieved at the sight, or the lack of. Although his slightly restricted wrist failed to wither his masterful navigation, the irritating sight of the handcuff was getting to him. He pumped his left fist and concentrated energy to the hand. A grunt ruptured from his lips as he yanked his arm high into the air, dismantling the miniature torture device in the process. He twisted his liberated wrist, enjoying the pleasurable feel of normality. Unfortunately, it didn't last long as booming threats reached his ears from behind.

"Ha!" Hwoarang grinned triumphantly, spotting the excuse of a bike that the closely-following Wulong was chasing him on. "Give it up! You'll never catch me with that!" Contrary to his statement, Wulong managed to reduce the gap between them, to less than three feet. The dry and worn out motor of the close-by scooter annoyed him. He smiled. Thankfully it wasn't something out of his control. With a rapid twist of the accelerator on the handlebar, he sped off instantly, leaving distasteful smoke for Wulong's lungs to battle with.

The tires screeched loudly as Wulong was forced to skid to a stop. He coughed out the choking fumes and dusted his eyes from the obstruction with a forearm. When he finally looked up again, Hwoarang was long gone. The appalling sensation of burning rubber rose to his nostrils, urging him to hasten his plan formulation. He had an idea. He drove forth and took the first right.

ooOOoo

"WOOOOOO!" Hwoarang celebrated, his hands lingering freely in the thirty-foot high air. He grabbed the handlebars as his bike began descending. With the smooth touch of the grounding tires, and the supple suspension of the seat, he made a successful touchdown, his wheels making good use of an inadvertent, down sloping ramp. He had definitely lost the cop now.

No one could have predicted the twists and turns he undertook as he navigated the big city. And the fact that he was taking a couple more only complicated the unwanted trail he left behind. He had to thank Wulong, though, as if it wasn't for him, he'd probably still be stuck in that horrible traffic jam. He proceeded to snatch an apple from a fruit and vegetable stand as he sped by. He took a single bite from it before successfully tossing it into a bin as he continued to travel at a high speed.

He adjusted the barely utilised goggles sleeping on his forehead in a show of confidence, leaving a single hand steering the bike. When it came to this extreme sport, no one stood a chance against him. To add to his joy, the entrance of an underground parking zone caught his attention. He could lay low until Wulong had given up for good. He flicked the left indicator on as he proceeded to the cool down point.

Having taken the turn, still smiling and all, a strange but familiar rumbling hit his ears.

No. It couldn't be.

His heart nearly stopped beating when he turned and found out what – or who it was.

Lei Wulong, again? But how did he - it wasn't important. The cop stood with bent knees on the seat of his moving scooter, using his arms to help his uneasy balance as the wind flapped his white, formal pants. The entrance to the underground parking lot grew thinner as they both drew closer to it. Once the distance was small enough, Wulong dove toward Hwoarang, pushing away from the scooter with his feet for maximum momentum. The scooter went sliding across the ground, metal screeches heard as scratches were carved into its body.

Grunts and groans arose from both parties as Wulong managed to tackle Hwoarang off his bike, causing the two men to meet the floor hard, twirling and rolling all over the ground as each man tried to win a good position. The fumble was soon over, leaving them free to stand toe-to-toe.

"You're not bad," Hwoarang panted. "For an old guy."

"Not bad?" Wulong replied dissatisfied. "Let's see what you'll have to say after I beat you down." He folded his arms and shrugged his head up before assuming his battle pose.

Hwoarang scratched the back of his head then hopped in place, closed fists held a little away from his face. "Now all we're missing is an announcer," he joked, but quickly convinced himself that he wasn't in the mood for the subsequent fight. Without warning, he dropped his pose and ran away from the cop.

"Coward!" Wulong bellowed, resuming the chase on foot. Though still an impressive cop, his legs certainly weren't what they had used to be, giving Hwoarang the edge in speed. But it was going to be very difficult for Hwoarang to lose him in a relatively empty car park. Especially because he was running close to the single entrance and exit to the zone. Hwoarang, strangely, didn't seem to be heading for the exit; instead he was heading towards ... an elevator!

He side stepped pillars and rolled over car boots to keep chase of the scoundrel, hell-bent on capturing him. But his burning chest was anything but on his side. Then, strangely, Hwoarang disregarded the lift and appeared be running to a wall. By the time he realised what the redhead bandit was up to, it was too late. Hwoarang had already jumped towards the wall and pressed against it with one foot, using the same foot to kick off the wall and jolted his other foot straight to Wulong's chest, sending him sliding across the gravel before coming to a stop.

As Wulong struggled to get up, he caught a glimpse of the elevator doors shutting Hwoarang in, the petty crook holding up an insulting finger as he was closed in. He stood up, hand against his chest and proceeded cautiously to the elevator with a frail walk. He panted desperately to regain his breadth. "That bastard," he said out loud, as he pushed the lift's button. "He's going to get it."

**End of Chapter 2**


	4. Desperate Calls

Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

**Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero**

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

**Chapter 3**

_Desperate Calls…_

Cool breezes founded by the day's sunset fluttered her brunette locks as she stood in the open vicinity of the corporate building's flat peak. Though man would consider her position high, birds strutting in the same altitude would be unimpressed. Such a quiet environment contradicted the very atmosphere a couple of floors beneath her, where people by the thousands were relentlessly exchanging their monetary assets for a means for self-fulfilment. Some may claim that they were shopping for necessities, others for their children, but either way, anyway, as long as they were on Earth, it would undoubtedly lead back to self-fulfilment.

She hugged herself, wrapping her arms around her yellow, sleeveless sweater, trying to combat the winds that were now becoming a tad too cold. Her inner white t-shirt, blue chequered skirt and matching knee-high socks had failed to prove their worth other than being a mandatory school uniform. She knew that she should have been getting down soon but her addictive taste for high places always prolonged her intended visits. It wasn't always a bad thing however, as she found that the ambiance encouraged her decision making skills for the better.

And so, she was going to do it. One corner of her lips angled up as she asked herself if she even had a choice in the matter. This was going to be as much for her as it was going to be for him. Helping him would be helping herself, hence back to the self-fulfilment realization. More for him though, she tried to convince herself.

When she saw him near the end of the tournament, when she tried to help him out, but only inadvertently triggered her special ability, she knew it was meant to be. It was no longer a matter of coincidence, it was fate.

But that damn Heihachi had ceased the process before she could fully run its course. And to top it off, he had taken him into his custody, making her purpose that much harder to achieve. Too bad for the old grump; she wasn't going to give up, not until the death. Bitter or sweet, she would accomplish her goal.

Suddenly, a harsh burst of wind blew at her, causing her knees to slam together at its chilliness. It was definitely time for her to take her leave. She made her way across the abandoned rooftop, casually sidestepping the few blocks of see-through, glass tiles and various chimney outlets before descending the few steps that led to the shut elevator doors.

She pushed the down-arrow button and awaited its arrival, trapping her frosty breaths as she anxiously watched the steel doors. After seconds, that seemed like hours, of waiting, she frantically pressed the button repeatedly, urging it to 'come on' as if it would respond any quicker.

Finally, it arrived with a chime. The command button lost its red glow and the metallic, double doors parted, slowly welcoming her into their secured home. Unexpectedly, there was somebody already there.

She examined him curiously, wondering what type of person would share her passion for peace and serenity. The tall red-haired man wore a sleeveless orange and green biker's tank-top on his lean but built chest. Several bands with silver jewels were strapped along the length of his blue jeans. He looked very familiar. She couldn't help but eye him as he stepped out of the lift. Their eyes met with proverbial interest.

"Sorry," she started, adding more sound to the scene than the steps of his cowboy boots and the distant echoes of car horns and police sirens. "Do I know you?"

Hwoarang looked her over. He had definitely seen her face before, and he disowned himself for not getting to know her gorgeous body better. He was a sucker for short skirts and pretty faces. "I don't know, do you? Maybe we'll discover that we are long lost brother and sister over a cup of coffee. Although," he said, his eyes travelling south of her face. "I really hope that's not case. I'd curse my already cursed fate if I found out someone as cute as you were actually related to me."

"Charming," she replied bluntly. She didn't derive any pleasure from turning guys down, and never did it in a rude manner unless they truly deserved it, but with the cold persistently biting at her unclothed legs and arms, she couldn't help but be a little irritable. "Seriously, my name's Asuka and I can remember seeing your face somewhere…"

"Must've been in your dreams," Hwoarang continued, apparently not getting the point.

Asuka frowned at the dismissive attitude he was giving her. "Yeah, probably … But with a face like yours it sounds more like a nightmare."

"Oooh," Hwoarang let out, sounding impressed as he began to circle her slowly. "A nightmare eh..." he whispered from behind her. "Well, I do have the tendency to make women scream."

"Err, fine," she growled, feeling defeated. "If that's all you want to think about then goodbye." But just as she was heading back for the lift, its doors shut, leaving her outside to wait for another whole round before returning to the roof. She turned to Hwoarang, who was wearing the most irritating grin she had seen in her life. "Now look! You made me miss my ride!"

"Don't worry," he said calmly, noticing the growing Goosebumps on her exposed legs. "I can keep you warm if you let me." But she simply continued to whistle while looking at a random point in the sky. "Alright, alright, sheesh," he submitted. "I was just playing with you. I'm Hwoarang."

"Hwoarang?" She mumbled his name to herself, trying to recall where she heard it. "Hwoarang!" She said, finally sure. "From the tournament! I was supposed to fight you in the semi-finals but you were a no-show. What happened?"

"A no-show!?" Hwoarang howled, feeling disrespected. "I've never been a no-show in my life. It's simple really. My motives for entering the tournament were satisfied. There was no reason to hang around any longer."

Asuka ran her hands up and down her petite arm muscles, warming them up as she listened to him. For someone to work so hard to reach the semi-finals and just throw away the opportunity of attaining the Mishima Zaibatsu seemed a little strange to her. "And what exactly was your motive?"

"I needed to defeat someone." His eyes flashed dangerously. "I made Jin Kazama realise who –"

"KAZAMA!?" Asuka blurted out. Then she cleared her throat and quieted down, feeling embarrassed at her exaggeration. "Kazama, but that's my name. It must be him. So ... his name is Jin."

"You're weird."

"But you said you defeated Jin," she said seriously, ignoring his last sentence. "That must mean ... he was advanced to the semi-finals as a result of your forfeit." It was more of an assumption than a certified fact.

Hwoarang folded his arms and kept the seriousness on his face. "What do you mean, **advanced?** He should've been knocked out of the tournament completely! Damn the Mishima and the Kazama for thinking they can do anything they want."

"Sorry to be the one tell you but we pretty much can," Asuka said light-heartedly. She looked him over again. He didn't look incredibly strong and the Ki she could sense from him wasn't very impressive. He probably was confining his full power. He had to be if he truly did defeat Jin at the tournament. The concrete look in his eyes was pretty convincing evidence that he had. And if that was case, he could be a valuable asset to her mission. "You know, the Jin I saw had these huge wings, and scary horns, and creepy red eyes," she said, gesturing each feature as she explained it. "And you're telling me, you can beat him?"

"Huh?" he was confused. "Unless he grew those wings and horns that very day, I doubt we'd be talking about the same Jin. People don't just grow wings, Kazama. I thought that school uniform would mean you actually go to school."

"Hrm," she complained. "You wouldn't understand. It's family business. And don't call me Kazama, sounds way too formal. Why do you think I told you my name in the first place? But hey, let's say I believe you, that you really beat Jin. Would you be willing to help me out with something?"

This was all beginning to sound really familiar to Hwoarang. "Not you too! When will you people learn, there is no way I'm helping you find or save or whatever Jin Kazama. The day I'd do that is the day some random Kangaroo or Bear actually won a King of Iron Fist Tournament, okay. It's not going to happen."

"But how did you know..." Asuka wondered how he predicted what she was going to ask. "Come on. I wouldn't be asking if it was something I could handle on my own. It's just that Devil thing was soooo scary. But if I knew someone who could beat it..."

Hwoarang shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you're asking the wrong guy." He turned his back towards her and began walking away when the elevator chime sounded. Judging from its volume, the elevator was only two floors down from the top. He sensed a rush of energy coming from the lift. It could only be...

"Lei," Asuka said, also sensing his energy. He had helped her track down Feng in the tournament and so became a friend to her. "What's wrong?" She shouted over to Hwoarang, noticing that he had become a little shaky. "You're not a bad guy are you?" He didn't say anything or turn around. "You are! Oh, you're so busted! There's no way off this rooftop except that elevator and I doubt you'll be able to make it through with him all over you."

An overconfident smirk surfaced on his face. "Who said anything about running," he retorted, lifting his fist as the chime brought the elevator a level higher.

"Please, a master of Five Form Chinese Martial Arts is no push over. Lucky for you I'm still here." Asuka thought about what she was about to offer. Assisting someone on the wrong side of the law would definitely come back to haunt her. But she had to do something about Jin. She had to fulfil her own destiny. "I'll help you if you help me. What do you say?"

Hwoarang broke out in a spookily, evil laugh. He turned around to face her as he regained his composure. "Nice try, but I don't need anybody's help for this and certainly not yours."

"Fine," Asuka said calmly. "I'll be sure to see you during visiting hours then."

The lift's chime sounded again, this time it was the rooftop. Hwoarang turned to look at the door for an instant but as soon as he turned back there was nothing where Asuka had been standing. His eyes darted in different directions as he tried to catch her location. There was nothing, she seemed to have vanished into thin air. It had been a while since he witnessed anyone move that fast. But there were more pressing matters to consider. He watched as the lift's doors slowly separated.

Lei Wulong stepped out, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and standing in place to ensure that the elevator returned to the shopping mall empty. The wind blew his ponytail as he approached Hwoarang with hurtful intent.

"Let's go." That was all he said before resuming his battle pose.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up already," Hwoarang said, feeling unflustered. He raised his gauntlet covered fists.

Silence ensued as the two fighters locked glares. Hwoarang kept his eyes fixed on Lei's, even as the super cop was moving left and right in a weary sidewalk. He was waiting for the right position and precise time to launch an opening attack. And there it was! Hwoarang's hop stopped as he lifted a lighting quick left leg, directing his sole straight to the gap between his opponent's eyes.

It was so quick ... and so high, Wulong anticipated, at almost the exact instant the young man's foot just left the ground. This left Hwoarang's right leg vulnerable to a swift sweep.

On connection, his body span like a speedy clock's seconds' hand before he hit the floor head first, leading his body to drop with a thump. Thankfully, Hwoarang's experience taught him the useful technique of tech rolling. He pulled it off perfectly, fully avoiding Wulong's Falling Tree attack as he got back to a vertical base. Wulong's face was forced to the side by the hard tip of Hwoarang's boot when he performed an Ankle Biter on a back-to-the-floor opponent.

Wulong clenched his teeth but was neither seriously fazed by the attack nor by the close proximity of the ground - which had become his friend over the years of training. Instead of worrying, he contemplated whether to get up with a surprise sweep or a double kick to his Hwoarang's face. Hastily, as all battle decision's were, he put his hands behind his head and sprung himself up with his feet meeting the unexpected criminal's rigid jaw and launching him high into the air. A veteran like him knew he had to cease all opportunities, so he threw out a stream of punches, switching between his left and right hands, hitting his midair opponent on his way to the ground. He finished off the Razor Rush with a mid-kick, before Hwoarang finally met the floor back first.

The painful groans of his offender were treated mercilessly as the officer rushed over to him, pulling out a set of handcuffs from his back pockets. Hwoarang's wrists were easily bound. He lacked the inner strength to fight it. "You have the right to remain silent," the cop began to recite him his rights.

He was caught off guard, Hwoarang convinced himself, as he was hauled back to his feet roughly by Wulong. He panted furiously, attempting to break the cuffs tying his hands behind him but it was no use. Patches of dirt on his cheeks only added salt to his injuries. There was still one hope. He didn't want to go jail. He wasn't going to go to jail, no matter what. "OKAY! HELP ME! I'LL HELP YOU! I PROMISE!"

Wulong looked at the young man, perplexed. Most prisoners only cracked **after** years of being behind bars. He continued patting the convict's back, searching for illegal substances. "As I was saying, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"IF YOU CAN HEAR ME!" Hwoarang continued to cry out to the skies as loud as he could. He didn't even want to think of the shame the arrest would bring to his master's dojo, or to himself. No. If he managed to escape this one he would definitely change his ways. "I SAID I'LL HELP YOU! JUST PLEASE, I'M SORRY IF I SAID ANYTHING TO OFFEND YOU!" But his tired breadth was growing faint and soon he could do nothing more than gasp for air.

"Who are you talking to--"

The cop was cut off.

A rush of wind suddenly blew past Hwoarang's ears and flapped the strands of orange hair behind his head. His peripheral vision caught Wulong leaning to the side, stiff and unsteadily like a falling domino. In slow motion, the officer's body bounced off the hard floor once before resting still and silent. Hwoarang looked down at the cop, shut eyes and a tilted, unmoving, upper lip declared him unconscious. He turned his head back, looking for the executioner.

A blaze of blue of yellow back flipped to the ground before him. Asuka landed in a crouched position, one hand and one knee touching the surface for balance as her skirt and hair fluttering in the gentle gusts. Silently, she stood up and approached him. She clutched the chain connecting the two handcuffs and yanked it up, breaking it apart with a single hand.

Hwoarang stared at his free hands, amazed at what had just happened. "Wow, it's astounding how much damage such a pretty looking thing can do," he said, as he knelt down to check Wulong's pulse.

"Pretty?" Asuka said as she adjusted her sky-blue fingerless gloves. "You're talking about me or you? Never mind, I guess it'd have to be me, seeing as you couldn't do any damage at all." She shook her head disappointedly. "Man, you're weak."

Red flushed Hwoarang's face at the disgrace of being saved by a girl. "Whatever," he said, looking away to hide his features.

"Now it's time for you live up to your end of the deal."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I guess that little Chinese girl would be so glad to meet you." He gathered from Asuka's silence that she didn't know who he was talking about. "Just forget it. Let's go ... before I change my mind."

ooOOoo

Somewhere deep in the greenness of a living forest, sitting cross-legged with its palms shut together, was an extraordinary being. Gold armour was situated around its body, shining brilliantly against the jade of foliage and vegetation. It hummed to itself as it rocked back and forth, contemplating and anticipating how it would avenge its close friend by recapturing that _monster,_ but most importantly recapturing ... **it**

**End of Chapter 3**


	5. Hwoarang's Exit Note

Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

**Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero**

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

**Chapter 4**

_Hwoarang's Exit Note…_

Ling Xiaoyu sat on the steps of an extremely wide porch. Pretty pink and authentic brown stones were carved into the cream, marble staircase and veranda. She drew imaginary patterns on the smooth surface with her finger, loving the feel of its clean and cool texture. To her side, Panda just managed to fit her horizontal body on the broad step her mistress was sitting on, silent in her afternoon slumber.

She smiled and gently patted Panda's furry head. She certainly deserved the rest after the long day's events. Xiaoyu sighed, dropping her jaw to supporting palms.

After previously failing to recruit Hwoarang, she decided she'd give it a final try. The entrance of a well-known, Japanese, Tai-kwon-do dojo seemed like the best place to expect him. Not to mention the name Baek Doo San was printed on a metal plate attached to the brick wall at the peek of the staircase. But if he didn't arrive in the next couple of minutes, she would head back home.

The time span between King of Iron Fist Tournaments reached a minimum when the fifth was announced only two months after the fourth. Xiaoyu suspected that the reason Hwoarang hadn't returned to Korea was to be sure that another tournament wasn't just around the corner.

She caressed her red jacket's arms, up and down from shoulders to elbows. It was her least favourite weather. No sun and nothing to compensate for its presence but sinister drifts of calm, cold air. Few people, and even fewer cars, wafted passed her, uninterested or too busy or too frightened by the area, perhaps, to lend her their company.

She'd seen Hwoarang's master at the fifth tournament for the first time. But stories were her only evidence of his formidable fighting skill and of the profuse amount of respect he earned amongst fighters throughout the country. She didn't get a chance to actually face him in battle. That was a good thing, according to most.

In any case, that wasn't her primary concern. She wasn't sitting there waiting for him. She was waiting for his apprentice. Of who's time had just run out.

She turned to Panda and shook her awake. "I think we better get going."

'_Wha…?'_ Panda yawned, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. _'Where do you want to go, Ling? I thought we agreed that this is our best bet for where he'd come first.'_

Xiaoyu zipped her jacket fully shut, having had enough of being a subject to the cold. "You were right, Panda." She rose to her feet and stretched her arms as she failed to suppress a yawn. "We're wasting our time with him."

'_Finally,'_ her bear companion agreed. She rose to her hind legs, towering over Xiaoyu's short height. Her paw comforted her worried shoulder. _'Don't be afraid. We'll find a way. We always do.'_

Xiaoyu reached over her shoulder and placed her hand above Panda's own. The gesture was enough; she didn't need to say any more. Her brown eyes blinked, flames of courage raging within. "You're right, as always," she said confidently, still not turning around. "No 'boy-on-bike'is responsible for steering our fate. I'll do this without his help! He can drive himself straight into a devil, have his bike set on fire in an instant explosion and be thrown across the street, bruised and battered in the quietest hour of night before IEVER help him OR ask for his help!"

Not quite what she expected, but it was a much better attitude. Panda smiled.

Rumbling began to fade into their ears. They both turned in its direction, looking curiously at the last bit of the down-sloping road they could see.

Like the sun breaking surface to the horizon, a deep orange began to rise. Slowly, the figure drove into view. Goggles, green and carroty shirt, dark blue jeans … it was Hwoarang. Strapped above his waist was a pair of forearms. Someone was sitting behind him.

As soon as he caught sight of her and her bear, a smirk surfaced on Hwoarang's lips. She was so predictable. In a show of skill and confidence, he heightened his speed. Once a little further away from the steps of the dojo, he span his bike in a one-eighty, screeching tires against the gravel before coming to a halt and facing the direction he had just come from.

"Don't ever do that again," Asuka gritted in his ear before getting off the bike. She was so happy her legs had touched ground again, given the irresponsible driving habits of her driver.

Hwoarang proceeded to park his bike on the sidewalk. But before he could dismount the vehicle, Xiaoyu had already run down the steps and now stood right before him, once again, ready to plea her case, apparently. He decided he'd have a little fun and listen to what she'd have to say before he told her that he had already agreed to help Asuka, and therefore to help her too.

"Oh, you actually came! This is great. Please you've got to help me!" Xiaoyu said, not seeing Panda shaking her head in disappointment behind her. "You know that **thing** you wanted from me?" she whispered, looking over his shoulder to make sure his friend couldn't hear her. "I'll do it!"

"What?" Hwoarang's mouth hung open for a while.

ooOOoo

The lone soldier walked the deafening silent path, fearlessly, as some would say. His boots crushed tiny stones underfoot, leaving their morsels to drift with the sandy air. Apart from the sounds of his own footsteps, he could only hear the creaks of old, rusty screws to his far right, helplessly swinging a depreciated banner. The screw gave out, letting the banner crash from its drop to the wooden veranda of the closed pub.

It didn't unease him in the least. All the buildings in the ghost, western look-alike town were exhausted. And with the lack of any human presence at all, they were doomed to remain as-is.

The shins of his blue cargo pants were dirtied by the low gusts of sand. But that didn't bother him either. His mind was practically unconscious to his immediate environment. This was the way he preferred travelling. Any thoughts otherwise would be that of pure survival.

Feelings.

He had none. Not until recently. His human-side was on the verge of rebirth. Unfortunately, and auspiciously at the same time, the first feeling he re-developed was fear.

Suddenly, he stopped, echoes of his footsteps camouflaging in the soundless air. A sharp sensation had hit him. He knew nothing of what it was, except for the trace of life in its presence. Could somebody be ambushing him?

He turned around. There was nothing peculiar about the balls of hay blowing across the dirt road. He focused his optical sensors, zooming in and out the deserted area around him. He once again relied on his installed components. The human in him couldn't be trusted. It was dead.

All he could rely on was the android in him. Something was approaching … from behind, with hostile intent …

_Sixty kilometres per hour, at one-eighty degrees, increasing velocity … plan of action, counter attack … intercept in five, four, three, two …_

He pumped a fist and swung a speedy, right backhand. The attack was successful, catching the target in a crucial spot, dissembling it into shards of red and golden armour. He crouched and picked up a piece of the deceased, investigating its texture with a frown. It was definitely a familiar substance.

Numerous black swirls began to formulate in the cloudless sky. Several beings dropped from the vortex', landing all around him and enclosing him in their centre. Judging from the colour of their armour, they must've belonged to the same tribe as his recent attacker. He dropped the piece of rubble and stood up.

A slim figure, with shinier crimson boot and chest armour from the others stepped forward. Its green eyes shot at him. It reached for its back, drawing a green-beamed sword by the hilt. "I am Optima," it spoke in a metallic voice. "Senior General of the Manji Clan. Step down, Fury. I hereby place you under arrest."

Bryan Fury looked at the hundreds of them. Why did they want to arrest him? He didn't do anything wrong … did he? That thing he took down tried to attack**him!**

He had a right to defend himself. He began to raise his hands, getting ready to plea his case when a loud, cracking sound exploded in his head. He fell knees first to the ground and covered his ears.

The Manji Clan agents watched their target suffer from the excruciating pain, they could only imagine. It served him right.

Fury's loud yells were suddenly silenced. Bits and parts of memories began to flow back into his head. He looked up to Optima.

"Please, you don't understand."

"It's too late for that." The leader of the gang ignored the watery eyes of the murderer and took battle stance. "Draw your weapons!" he ordered his men.

"But – ARGH!" Fury cried out as another ear-splitting shrill rocked his brains. Everything faded to black. Then, a couple of seconds later, everything came back, his entire vision hued by jade. He got to his feet and gargled an evil laugh at the top his lungs. "Come on!" he taunted them dangerously.

"ATTACK!"

ooOOoo

"Keep it down," Xiaoyu whispered angrily to Hwoarang. It was bad enough she felt forced to do this. She didn't want the whole world to know too. She leaned her head to his side, peeking behind him to see who it was that he came with. She still couldn't see the busty brunette's face from her position but the girl looked familiar, real familiar - not by her figure though, but by uniform.

Hwoarang spun around, attempting to catch a glimpse of what Xiaoyu found so interesting. It was Asuka she was staring at. When a wave in front Xiaoyu's face failed to break the concentration, he knew something was up. He reconsidered Asuka again, who was still pacing left and right from his alleged attempt to kill her (his driving wasn't THAT bad), and then he finally got it. An evil grin took to his lips.

He cleared his throat, and then in a deliberate, extremely exaggerated, loud voice said, "GEEZ! I know they're big Xiaoyu but can you please stop staring at Asuka!"

Asuka turned towards them immediately, brown hair whipping around. Xiaoyu was 'caught' by Asuka red-handed. Even though what Hwoarang said was wrong on so many levels, Xiaoyu found herself covering her mouth with both hands, partially hiding the red that formed on her cheeks.

When Asuka realised what Hwoarang was going on about, she began to blush too, though not as much Xiaoyu. She swung a small bag that was on the bike's parcel holder over her shoulder by the strap and made her way towards the highly embarrassed Xiaoyu and the laughing-like-a-maniac Hwoarang.

Asuka cleared her throat with a fist pressed against her lips. This was her signal for Hwoarang to introduce her to his shy friend.

Revenge had never been sweeter. After he finally recovered from himself, Hwoarang cleared his throat. "Ling Xiaoyu, this is Asuka Kazama. Asuka, this is Ling. _She's special_," he added to Asuka in a whisper.

The two girls shook hands, though Ling was looking down during the whole process. What a jerk, Asuka thought of Hwoarang, spewing out the poor girl's insecurities in such a manner. The world probably gave her enough grief as it was. Though this was the twenty-first century and bisexuality shouldn't have been frowned upon in Asuka's opinion.

"It's okay … to be … you know …" she said in a sincere, low voice.

"No!" Xiaoyu protested, feeling agitated by the silly snickers of Hwoarang beside her. "I'm not like that!"

"But…" Asuka started. "I was talking about him!" She pointed to Hwoarang.

"Oh … of course," Xiaoyu said, relieved.

Much to Hwoarang's disgust and irritation, the two girls began to giggle. He turned away, teeth grinding together from anger as he made his way up the stairs, only to be met halfway up by a chuckling Panda bear. He mumbled curses beneath his breadth.

From his pockets, he retrieved a key and unlocked the padlock keeping the long, black gate shut. The gate's wheels squealed dryly as he pushed it open, sending it gliding further than necessary to allow for the four of them to enter. "This way," he forced himself to say to the girls and the Panda.

The spacious lawn residing to the left of the curved, brick-laid path they walked was neatly trimmed, green sparkles twinkling in light of Asuka's appreciative gaze. Soft showers poured on the grass from the centred sprinkler. Asuka noticed the wall of colourful, flowering plants that outlined the furthest end of the pitch, and the small wired gate she assumed led to an equally attractive garden. Her strong will struggled to contain the emotion urging her to step all over the grass with her messy school shoes to breath a whiff of the beauty exhibited on the opposite side.

Next to heights, nature was one of her dearest addictions. Her father always told her she inherited this adore from the mother she never got to meet. Thus, a tender sadness tagged along whenever she experienced Earth's rare beauty. She kept her gaze on the meadow, taking it all in while simultaneously avoiding her companions' eyes, in fear of what they'd think should a past tear feel rebellious.

Being more of a suburban girl, Ling Xiaoyu was more captivated by the tall manmade structure before her. Its divine cream walls reached four stories into the sky; she derived, having counted how many rows of stained glass windows she could see. The mansion made her grandfather's 'hut' seem like a hut. "Wow…" she marvelled, wide eyes glittering. " … so big."

Hwoarang heard the little gasp of awe behind him and decided he couldn't pass the moment. "Xiaoyu," he sang as if scolding her. "What did I say about staring at Asuka?"

Xiaoyu hung her head in defeat. "Goodness, is that all you ever think about?"

Hwoarang rolled his shoulders impassively. Women, bikes and fighting were his most prominent passions. He didn't really care if he over did it. "I know I agreed to help you and all, but I'd think you'll agree that it's getting kinda late." The mauve sunset was proof of this. "I suggest we spend the night here, and leave first thing tomorrow morning. At the moment, we've only got one guest room available," he explained as they approached the front door. "Which, unfortunately, means two of us are going to have to share a room. I'd suggest Asuka takes the guest room and then me and --"

"Oh no you don't!" Xiaoyu intervened. That gigantic house and he's telling them there was only **one** room available? She knew him better than that. "I'm sure you can arrange something better. Otherwise, Asuka and I will take the guest room. Plus, you're forgetting about my Panda!"

Hwoarang raised an eyebrow at the bear walking leisurely behind her. "No I'm not," he argued. "If you had held your tongue for one more second and let me finish, I would've told you there's a big enough tub somewhere in the basement toilet." Wasn't it supposed to sleep outside anyway?

Xiaoyu struggled to keep Panda back as Hwoarang continued to walk on, unfazed.

"That was mean, even for you." The panda's grumbles had disturbed Asuka's peaceful admiration of the natural environment. Hwoarang simply titled his head, lowering his ear to one side as he continued to walk in front of them. She had yet to see a descent trait he possessed. In fact, she was beginning to question whether he had any at all.

"One of these days you're going to wake up and learn that you can only breathe your own pitiful scent for so long before it inevitably chokes you. But by the time you realise your existence prevails only in the dense confines of your own eternal solitude, it'll be too late, the world would've long forgotten about you."

For once, Hwoarang hadn't struck back with one of his smart comments. Xiaoyu didn't think anybody could silence the infamous loudmouth. He couldn't be taking it too well. She knew that his silence was far from a calm one. As much as she wanted to thank and congratulate Asuka publicly, she feared he would do something aggressive in retaliation. She simply patted Asuka on the back and let her smile speak the words for her. Asuka gleamed back and Panda had settled, probably also content.

When Hwoarang raised his head, the trio made out a cell phone in his grasp, pressed against his ear. "Alright, later then." He clicked on a button to end the call, pocketing the mobile device. "Um, sorry, what was that Asuka? Something about me waking up and realising you were next to me, breathing my scent?"

All three of the travellers sighed in chorus. "It's hopeless," Asuka submitted. Xiaoyu wasn't even sure of the meaning behind Asuka's words but she could feel the painful inconvenience of them being wasted.

Hwoarang span around to face his visitors, back against the tall, russet double door that was the main entrance to the house. His eyes jumped from one confused face to next. The three females quickly fell silent under his unexpected scrutiny.

"Why are you looking at us like that?" Asuka finally asked, starting to get worried.

"Yeah," Xiaoyu sounded just as curious. "And why are you blocking the door?"

He indulged in a long blink. When his eyes opened, there was a sense of solidity that wasn't apparent before. Even his shoulders seemed tense, and Xiaoyu noticed he had been standing as straight as she had ever seen him stand, with his arms folded across his chest. "Master Baek shouldn't have any objections to your stay, but I must warn you, he isn't one to be troubled by playful behaviour."

Xiaoyu wasn't sure if he actually deepened his voice, or if the slower pace just made it sound that way. "Okay?"

"You don't have to worry about us making noise if that's what you're getting at." Sure, Asuka was still a teenager and could be just as loud as one if she wanted to, but she would never drag that privilege into another's home, let alone a total stranger's. "We'll be good girls." She smiled sheepishly. "As long as you don't do or say any stupid, that is," she grinned threateningly.

That was exactly what discomforted Hwoarang. Under Baek's rule, any of his guests' mishaps were considered **his** responsibility. Whatever he did, he couldn't let them know this. It would give them too much power over him. Instead, he'd rather have them believe they were directly punishable for their own actions. "Don't misunderstand me. I'm saying this for your own good, not mine. Look, the sooner this night is over, the sooner we can head out tomorrow. Please, let's try and make this as uneventful as possi--"

The door suddenly swung backwards, subtracting its supportive stature from behind him. His spine met the welcome mat with a stifled thump.

His stare up into the familiar, narrowed eyes was hesitant. The skilfully trimmed goatee and moustache outlined the stagnant frown with a silvery glaze. Hwoarang rushed back to his feet, finding a place between Asuka and Xiaoyu. His arms were stationed by his sides as he lowered his head in respect. The two teenage girls also followed into bows while Panda lifted a paw over her chest and lowered her head as well.

"Ladies," he greeted with a slight nod before turning to Hwoarang. "You, you're not going anywhere until you can prove to me you're worthy," he stated, having overheard what the young Korean was saying to his visitors moments earlier. That's all he said before turning around, protruding ponytail whipping around to follow suit. "Oh, and welcome."

The girls assumed his last comment before striding deep into the dwelling was for them. "Whoa! You must have it hard, Hwoarang." Xiaoyu's grandfather was usually strict only during training sessions. She couldn't imagine what home life would be if he walked around all day with a frown plastered to his face.

"You have no idea." Hwoarang just hoped the three of them wouldn't worsen the situation.

ooOOoo

Bryan's slouching form panted heavily at the centre of destruction. The Manji Clan forces were reduced to thousands of scattered body parts. Thick globs of crimson gravy were splattered against the standing components of the ancient shops and bars' broken walls. The dusty air carried the fresh scent of death to his nose.

And it affected him.

He dropped to a knee, hand over his burning chest. His eyes moved from one disfigured body to another, a chilliness stabbing at his gut as he surveyed the disintegrated area.

"D-did I do this?"

The answer to the question was what frightened him most. He knew it was him, even if he couldn't remember doing it. Pretending otherwise was always a temporary solution, but it couldn't avoid his conscious forever.

There was only person who could cure his satanic spasms of fury. He struggled to his feet. If he didn't find him soon, the whole country, world eventually, would fall by his hands. Thus, with another staggering step forward, his journey continued.

**End of Chapter 4**


	6. The Final Training Hurdle

Disclaimer: I don't own any parts of the Tekken franchise. All copyrighted materials belong to the appropriate owners. This is a non-profitable story, written purely for entertainment.

Author Notes: 

Big thanks to beryllium40, Mi jung ha, and Hatori Fujiwara for the reveiws. :)

**Tekken 5, Aftermath: The Unlikely Hero**

.:A Tactless Tales Production:.

**Chapter 5**

_The Final Training Hurdle…_

Asuka pulled in the golden petals' sweet scent through her tingling nostrils. The smooth inhale was long and drawn out, savouring every tinge of the flower's glory with a very subtle suction. Enchanted lungs threatened to burst into flurries of pretty, yellow ribbons. She held her lung capacity tight in her throat, relishing every second, before releasing the collection of emotion in one, relieving exhale.

The aftertaste tingled pleasantly in her nose. Her lips stretched into a satisfied gesture. She knew visiting this portion of the estate would do wonders for her already brilliant morning!

Blue skies lightened up with each step of the young, rising sun. The morning air felt chilly over her features. It wasn't nearly as cold as it could've been however, since the early shower's aura was still warm around her.

An outdoor shrine like this wouldn't have hurt to have at home, she wished. This small, outside section boasted a circular Jacuzzi at the centre of the ring of prosperous plant life. It comforted her, not only to be there, but to know that not all of Hwoarang's winnings were misused. Over the previous night's dinner, he and Master Doo San explained to them how they brought together their semi and quarter-semi final rewards to purchase the mansion.

Asuka had advanced to the semi finals too, scheduled to fight Hwoarang - who ended up not appearing. Unlike him, her earnings were dedicated to the expensive revamp of her father's dojo and she was persuaded to secure the remainder of the prize in a savings account. It wasn't the flashiest way to show for her success but it was probably the smartest.

Her fingers delicately pinched one of dozens of dandelions. They had plenty; they wouldn't need this one, she told herself as she stepped into the Jacuzzi's bubbling warmth.

The glass door behind her slid open. Ling Xiaoyu stepped onto the grass in a pair of pink bunny slippers. They appeared to have been weaved from the same woolly material as her morning robe, which happened to be the same colour as well. The robes certainly lived their purpose, having been bought for the specific comfort of the mansion's guests.

The Chinese girl walked drowsily toward Asuka, black locks spread in a mess over her shoulders now that they were free of hair bands. Asuka counted three yawns from Xiaoyu before she finally found a seat opposite to her, burying her shins in the water as she had. Rocking her petit body back and forth, Xiaoyu rubbed her palms together then granted them a hot breath.

It was evident to Asuka that the teen wasn't exactly a morning person. "You should take a shower, it really helps," she suggested, twirling the dandelion under the tip of her nose.

"Mor--" Xiaoyu was interrupted by her fourth yawn. Her upbeat, chirpy nature had yet to take to her eyes, leaving them tired and puffy instead. "Morning to you too," she finished. "Gimme a break. Not all of us like to wake up before the sun does."

Asuka smiled. As far as she could remember, she always preferred mornings to nights. "I grew up like this!" She chimed. Xiaoyu simply looked on, almost as if she was bored. Asuka contemplated turning the liveliness down a notch. Apparently, non-morning people hated that about morning people. "So, if you don't like it, why wake up so early?"

The dark-haired girl shrugged her shoulders wearily. "If I was at home, three more hours would have to pass before I'd even consider waking up." Her hands stayed in the soothing shelter of the robes as she spoke. Asuka imagined the cool air was more severe to somebody who hadn't taken a shower or a bath. "But it's just not the same here. I mean, it's great and all, but it's … different. Not in a bad way. I guess the different surroundings must bring about a different behaviour in me."

"That makes sense," Asuka agreed. She felt just about the same during most of her time in the mansion. Russet eyes looked down to the spinning, yellow petals in her grasp. But not when she was outside. The good thing about nature was that once one found it, they could bask in its presence almost immediately. For Asuka, the comfort of home wasn't restricted to a single, hand-constructed house.

"You play for your school's hockey team, don't you?"

Indeed she had, but, "how did you know?"

"Your uniform." Xiaoyu finally remembered where she first saw Asuka. Even before the fifth tournament was announced to the public, the two of them had met on the ice field. Xiaoyu could never forget the face of the girl who put her out of the regional school league with an inadvertent club to the shins. But that was a long while ago and she had gotten over it - and so had Asuka apparently, if she failed to recognize her from anywhere other than the tournament. "Our team played your team."

"Really?" The high-pitch of surprise rang in her voice. "Whoa, I totally forgot all about sport once the whole tournament fuss hit school. Sorry, I can't recall seeing you on the field. Don't take it personal. I hardly remember anyone's faces, especially when they're being sheltered with protective gear. But you say you saw me?"

Xiaoyu nodded. In the single day she personally got to know Asuka, she seemed like a responsible person. Not someone who would injure a member of the opposite team, feel **really** sorry about it at the time, and then forget about it the next minute. The helmet was no excuse. The teams would always have mandatory handshakes at the beginning and end of the game, where they'd look each other eye to eye.

Still, she didn't want to believe Asuka was a heartless person. Besides, she had gotten over it a long time ago, hadn't she? She wouldn't bring it up now of all times. "Yeah, I remember you. You're an excellent player."

"Wow, thanks," Asuka smiled happily. "Most of the girls on the team are either too uptight or too jealous to spare compliments. I'm sure you're a pretty good player yourself. So, who won the game?"

"… Your team." To Xiaoyu's discomfort, Asuka seemed a little too happy. She didn't like the way the conversation was making her feel. "Anyway, you think Hwoarang stands a chance against Master Doo San today?"

Asuka briefly frowned at the sudden topic change. "We better hope so. It's the only way Master Doo San will let him come with us. We need the help. I just hope he's motivated enough to win."

Oh, he was motivated enough alright, Xiaoyu believed. After all, she did promise him her body, once he helped them ensure Jin was safe and sound – and **not** a second sooner. She could tell by the look in his gawking eyes across the dinner table and down the corridors that his motivation was in healthy supply. "In that case, we should have nothing to worry about. Look," she said, pointing to the skies. "The sun's almost up. We should get ready and go support him."

Asuka nodded. She stood up and fixed the flower she picked between straight folds of her brunette hair. Out of courtesy, she helped her Chinese friend to a stand. Together, they treaded back into the mansion, letting the waves settle to a calm surface. Xiaoyu headed for the shower.

Asuka looked back before shutting the glass door. She wished all mornings for the rest of her life could be this pleasant. She poked the flower in her hair and gave another smile before she entered the house, sliding the door behind her.

ooOOoo

It was always the waiting that Hwoarang despised. Of course, the silence didn't help any either, often waking his other senses to things that'd better remain trivial.

The surface beneath his bare soles felt smooth and icy cold. Thankfully, his toes wouldn't have to fidget above the torturing chill for too much longer. The blissful sun just reclaimed the highest seat in the sky, its loaded beams salvaging the terrain with a brilliant glow.

He could hear nothing, even as his ears searched the distant vicinity. And there was practically nothing nearby that could produce a notable noise. The outdoor practise arena was purposely detached from the main home, plotted on the farther outstretch of the spacious backyard. In principal, the designers' envisioned this spot to be free of visual and audible distraction, thus providing a fitting arena for interested combatants. But at a time like this, distraction was exactly what he needed.

Dark grey eyes wondered to the clear arena's circular border, hungry for anything stimulating. The spectators' seats seemed interesting enough. They were engraved into the circular boundaries much like the seats one would expect to find at a soccer stadium, except a lot fewer and only at two opposite sides of the pitch. They were a deep blue to match the 'mountain' theme the designers were going for. Looking from the outside, a viewer could easily mistake the skilful craft for a genuine, bluish-gray, snowy mountain; not knowing the interior was the open space Hwoarang and Baek Doo San were currently standing in.

Hwoarang's gaze stumbled back to his mentor at the sudden grunt that scratched his throat. He had a single eye peeled open to keep watch of the young Korean's deeds. Hwoarang fell silent at the inspection, bowing his head and shutting his eyes once more.

The semi-meditation session that his mentor insisted on prior battle did anything but calm Hwoarang. The anticipation was agonizing, and his thoughts always strayed to unrelated things. He didn't understand why they couldn't just get on with the battle. After all, in a street fight, there was no time to spare for such an unbearable practise. One need only shut his eyes in front of his opponent for a split second to find himself staring at a hospital ceiling the time he'd wake. So why even bother practising it?

"Ready?"

Was he ever!? He didn't think his master's gruff voice could've come any sooner! They must've been meditating, or in Hwoarang's case, pretending to meditate, for **hours**. He nodded at the question and opened his eyes with much pleasure.

"Are you sure?" Baek didn't want any excuses for a flawed form. "If one minute is not long enough we can resume with the --"

"I'm ready," he reassured, ignoring the lack of confidence prickling in his gut. He lifted his gloved fists to a ready position, but when his mentor hadn't done the same, he calmed down. "Is something wrong, master?"

Baek shrugged his head toward the stands. "I thought you'd like to know your audience has joined us."

And sure enough, Asuka, Xiaoyu and Panda were seated when his gaze revisited the stands. Assuming his mentor did have his eyes closed, which was a safe assumption to make, meant he must've sensed their presence with some mechanism other than vision. Hwoarang started to re-think the importance of meditation…

"Now," Baek arched a knee and extended his arms. "We shall begin."

Hwoarang raised his fists again, lacking in confidence even more than he was before. He eyed his mentor's stance intuitively, detecting a faint bounce in his left knee every third second. Knowing Baek Doo San however, it probably wasn't a weak point at all. His keen eyes continued to the search the maroon combat gear for an opportunity. His opponent must've been doing the same thing since he hadn't initiated an opening attack either.

Unexpectedly, Baek dropped his arms and resumed a casual stand. "Attack me."

For words expressed so calmly, they invoked a compelling wave of terror within him. The fact that his master's arms hung almost idly to the sides, and with his uncaring shoulder directed at him, only intimidated Hwoarang even more. It hinted that his mentor was prepared for anything he could possibly throw at him - and didn't even have to be in his ready stance to do so. This was going to be a different kind of battle, the red-head realised, clenching his fists tighter.

A corner of Baek's upper lip lifted, forcing a peek of the gritted teeth caging his impatient snarl. "I said attack me!"

Hwoarang's feet rushed into motion, pushing him forward, almost against his will. He just hoped the counter wasn't going to be a painful one. His right foot treaded into open air, tilted horizontally at the end of an extended leg. The boost from his pre-run had gathered enough speed to carry him forward through the air. He let out a wild battle cry as his attack neared the still target.

Panic moistened his brow at the fret of learning his Torpedo Kick had yet to make contact with anything solid. His opponent's cold eyes slid into view for the briefest of seconds before a rock fist crossed paths with his right cheek, shuffling his face to the side against his neck's comfort.

His lips bounced off the floor. The trembling touch of a finger identified a stressful spec of crimson. His stare widened, remembering the devilish look in his opponent's eyes. His mentor was rightfully a monster on the battlefield, but Hwoarang had never before experienced that twisted determination in his eyes. Besides, this wasn't a battlefield but a training ground. It appeared as if something was troubling his mentor and he was taking it out on him. The emotion packed behind his punch didn't belong there.

"Get up," he ordered calmly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

What was wrong with him? Hwoarang couldn't put a finger on it.

"Nobody's forcing you to do this. Back out now, if you wish," he hissed, concerned that his apprentice hadn't lived his command immediately. "But if you must go, give me the comfort of your success before you do. I can't have you disgracing my name, or my dojo's, any more with another loss ... or yield. Further more, what damage do you think you can inflict on him when you cannot even lay a finger on me?" He paused. "Now, get up or stay down, I haven't got time to waste."

Hwoarang grew to a stand wearily. His shoulders were slouched from the effects of the attack. **_Yield?_ **He thought in disgust. He left the tournament because he had gotten what he went for, not because he was afraid of his next opponent.

That single word made it all clear. It gave him the definition of his mentor's bitter eyes. When his master first learnt he pulled out of the semi final round, he was extremely furious to say the least. He seemed to have developed a burly hunger for money as he aged. Hwoarang never understood why. After he and Doo San put what they had won to buy the mansion, his mentor grew more relaxed to the idea of him forfeiting the tournament. But at seldom odd moments, the disappointment would come rushing back to him as he fantasised on how much bigger his wealth would've been if Hwoarang proceeded to win first place, not to mention taking ownership of the multi-million Mishima Zaibatsu. Hwoarang believed this very fight was one of those moments.

"Attack me."

Hwoarang wiped his lip with the back of his blue cut-out gloves. He was determined to make his second attempt worth something. He wasn't going to quit. He **was** going to have another rematch with Jin. And this time, he knew exactly how he'd force him to put up the best fight he had. His master, and his accompanying greed, would be nothing more than stepping stones.

But his punch was cut short of its destination, grasped in hook-like fingers that dug above his knuckles and beneath his wrist. It was too frustrating; those eyes were spared his punch when it was only inches away. That would drop to the least of his problems however, as a left knee crashed into his ribs. He doubled over, wrapping his arms around the pain. He must not have screamed loud enough since his opponent found it necessary to punish him repeatedly with sharp kicks the belly.

"Face it. When it comes to him, you'll forever be second best," he heard the torment breathed into his ear as he cringed in foetal position on the ground. "You'll never be able to defeat him. Not unless he pities you. And you know why he pities you?" The word 'pities' was burnt into his conscious, as a cigarette would be smouldered into an ashtray, every time he heard it.

His eyes shot open, a gasp escaping his lips at something his master whispered in his ear.

Baek walked away from the downed Korean. No further had he gotten five steps away before he turned around just in the nick of time to stoop beneath an angry high kick. Hwoarang's attacks were fiercely quick, but incredibly predictable to the master of his craft. He avoided and parried every kick and punch before burying a strong fist in into his apprentice's injured abdomen.

Hwoarang dropped to his knees with a barely audible gasp. It was no use just getting angry, he realised, struggling to hear his own thoughts over his heavy breathing.

_He's just a stepping stone…_ he kept to repeating himself _… just a stepping stone … just …_

He knew what he had to do. He closed his eyes and shut his mind to all but one thing. The pain was definitely there: pulsing around his stomach, itching in his lips and face muscles, spitting on his pride. But the less he directed his attention to it, the more his conscious was able to overlook it. His heavy gasps reduced to faint stutters, cold breaths moving up and down his throat, then nothing. He understood.

He could see.

He opened his eyes.

"Wait," he shouted out to the man he sensed striding away. That's right, he sensed him.

ooOOoo

Asuka grinned sheepishly as a jumble of money notes were dumped on her lap. One defiant leaf of the currency missed her knees, gliding to the stadium seat a level below instead. She cocked a brow at Xiaoyu expectantly.

"Oh get it yourself!" The Chinese girl feinted anger. It was bad enough she had to pay her, now she wanted her to run her errands too?

Asuka simply stuck her tongue at her in response. "A bet is a bet," she reminded her, more for her own joy at winning than for information. "He's a lousy fighter. I saw him get his butt handed to him by Lei yesterday. Placing a bet on him in a battle against Master Doo San would be the equivalent of throwing money straight into the dustbin!"

Well, she could have told her that **before** they made the bet, Xiaoyu thought; she giggled to herself at what Asuka said – she didn't realise she just equated herself to a dustbin. What she didn't agree with was that Hwoarang was a lousy fighter. She'd seen him fight in three tournaments after all. The most obvious explanations, to her, were that he had either grown rusty after the fifth tournament, or Master Doo San was simply that impressive.

A stray part of her was sad that what she promised him wasn't enough to push him to victory…

She hurried to face her panda that was tugging at her pants from the other seat besides her. Panda pulled a note from her pink wristband and gave it to Xiaoyu with instructions. Oh great, Xiaoyu thought, more money for her. She put the money in Asuka's lap.

"Oh? For me? Thanks!" She placed it at the back of the notes she was counting. "What was Panda's bet again?"

" … That Hwoarang would come and hide under your skirt."

Asuka chuckled at that. She wished she could understand what Panda was saying without Xiaoyu's help. She was extremely smart for a panda bear and apparently witty too; having pinpointed two of Hwoarang's famous traits in her single comment: both his cowardice and perverted tendencies. She'd seen the former on the rooftop with Lei, and the latter well, almost every time she spoke to him.

"Looks like the fight is over," Xiaoyu pointed at the two men locked in eye contact at centre stage. All that was left was for them to bow to each other. Seeing as Hwoarang hadn't landed a single hit, it was safe to say he lost. "Well, Asuka, looks like we're down one travelling partner…"

That was the first thing that could bring a frown to the brunette since winning the bet. Even in the short time she got know Baek Doo San, she could tell he wasn't the type of man to back down from a decision once he placed it. Hwoarang lost and that meant he couldn't go with them. It was final.

A stray part of her was sad that his promise to help her was cut short so soon…

**End of Chapter 5**


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